“I don’t feel like I can keep going on it without my involvement being questioned in a lot of ways,” she answered, after thinking through her options. “Especially because the cops want to talk to me about what I saw in Cindy Walden’s apartment.”
Helen nodded. “But you still think there’s a story here?”
It felt like an odd kind of betrayal, telling Helen. She and Alex had been so careful, involving no one else. But maybe that hadn’t been the right move. Information was dangerous, but the more people knew something, sometimes it lessened the danger. You couldn’t kill everyone, after all. “I know there is.”
“Do you have anything I can run?” It meant something to her that Helen didn’t seem to question at all if this was a way to get back at Alex, or if Zoey might have been a plant during some kind of bizarre thriller information attack scheme, or anything.
“I don’t—” Zoey started, and then everything froze. She sat perfectly still, willing the memory to fall into place. It was faint, hazy, hurt by everything that had come after. She had to be perfectly still, like a girl in the park trying to feed a squirrel.
She felt the pressure of the plastic in her hand as she remembered Cindy handing her the small Hello Kitty themed USB drive. “ It’s everything we knew,” Cindy had said . “The three of us. About the twins, but about Philip as well. Proof to substantiate our claims as his bastard children, the lawyers we each spoke to about the interpretations of the will. Everything that you could possibly want to know.”
Cindy had handed her the drive, and Zoey had needed to choke back a laugh. The USB dongle came out of Hello Kitty’s plastic molded behind, and she’d wanted to make a joke about shitting out information. But then everything had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and she’d run. She’d run, and she’d…what? What had happened to the drive? She hadn’t had it when she left the apartment. The killer hadn’t had it either. He hadn’t tossed the place, he’d left as soon as the shots were fired. He didn’t seem worried at all about any digital information. He’s old, or he’s just an idiot. Or he’s way too confident. She must have…dropped it? Did she remember dropping it? No, she couldn’t remember. She’d run so fast down the hallway, leaving Cindy behind as she tripped, and the drive—the drive had been in her hand then, she could remember the feel of it in her hand. As she’d run into the bathroom, and climbed into the closet. And she’d wrapped her arms around her knees, her hands clinging to her wrists. Somewhere between the living room and the bathroom it had fallen out of her hands.
So the next question was—did the police have it, or was it still in the apartment.
“I don’t have it,” Zoey said. “But I can get it.”
For the first time since this crazy saga had started, Helen leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing on her chest, her eyes narrowed. “Can you, luv?” Her accent always came back thickest when she was most irritated.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Zoey said. “I’ve never once mislead you on a story.”
“Why don’t you tell me what it is that you think you can get, then?”
“Cindy had a drive. A USB drive.” Zoey leaned closer to Helen over the table, lowering her voice. Her head still spun a little bit from the mimosas, but for the first time that day she felt more awake, alive, real. “It has proof. It has everything about the kids, the twins, everything. We need the drive, and then you’ll have what you need.”
“Where was it last?”
“In the apartment. She gave it to me, and then—and I dropped it, I think. I don’t know if the cops would have found it or not.”
She watched Helen weigh the choices. The wheels were turning in her friend’s head as she considered that she might be putting Zoey in continuing danger with the need to have
Helen nodded. “But you still think there’s a story here?”
It felt like an odd kind of betrayal, telling Helen. She and Alex had been so careful, involving no one else. But maybe that hadn’t been the right move. Information was dangerous, but the more people knew something, sometimes it lessened the danger. You couldn’t kill everyone, after all. “I know there is.”
“Do you have anything I can run?” It meant something to her that Helen didn’t seem to question at all if this was a way to get back at Alex, or if Zoey might have been a plant during some kind of bizarre thriller information attack scheme, or anything.
“I don’t—” Zoey started, and then everything froze. She sat perfectly still, willing the memory to fall into place. It was faint, hazy, hurt by everything that had come after. She had to be perfectly still, like a girl in the park trying to feed a squirrel.
She felt the pressure of the plastic in her hand as she remembered Cindy handing her the small Hello Kitty themed USB drive. “ It’s everything we knew,” Cindy had said . “The three of us. About the twins, but about Philip as well. Proof to substantiate our claims as his bastard children, the lawyers we each spoke to about the interpretations of the will. Everything that you could possibly want to know.”
Cindy had handed her the drive, and Zoey had needed to choke back a laugh. The USB dongle came out of Hello Kitty’s plastic molded behind, and she’d wanted to make a joke about shitting out information. But then everything had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and she’d run. She’d run, and she’d…what? What had happened to the drive? She hadn’t had it when she left the apartment. The killer hadn’t had it either. He hadn’t tossed the place, he’d left as soon as the shots were fired. He didn’t seem worried at all about any digital information. He’s old, or he’s just an idiot. Or he’s way too confident. She must have…dropped it? Did she remember dropping it? No, she couldn’t remember. She’d run so fast down the hallway, leaving Cindy behind as she tripped, and the drive—the drive had been in her hand then, she could remember the feel of it in her hand. As she’d run into the bathroom, and climbed into the closet. And she’d wrapped her arms around her knees, her hands clinging to her wrists. Somewhere between the living room and the bathroom it had fallen out of her hands.
So the next question was—did the police have it, or was it still in the apartment.
“I don’t have it,” Zoey said. “But I can get it.”
For the first time since this crazy saga had started, Helen leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing on her chest, her eyes narrowed. “Can you, luv?” Her accent always came back thickest when she was most irritated.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Zoey said. “I’ve never once mislead you on a story.”
“Why don’t you tell me what it is that you think you can get, then?”
“Cindy had a drive. A USB drive.” Zoey leaned closer to Helen over the table, lowering her voice. Her head still spun a little bit from the mimosas, but for the first time that day she felt more awake, alive, real. “It has proof. It has everything about the kids, the twins, everything. We need the drive, and then you’ll have what you need.”
“Where was it last?”
“In the apartment. She gave it to me, and then—and I dropped it, I think. I don’t know if the cops would have found it or not.”
She watched Helen weigh the choices. The wheels were turning in her friend’s head as she considered that she might be putting Zoey in continuing danger with the need to have
Similar Books
